


Lost, Stolen, and Strayed

by Wr1t3myWr0ngs



Series: Remembering Yesterday's Tomorrow (In the Here and Now) [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anxiety, F/M, Fix-It, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wr1t3myWr0ngs/pseuds/Wr1t3myWr0ngs
Summary: The future is in motion, and some changes require a gentle touch. Others? Well, there's nothing like the direct approach and the Force isn't above using aggressive negotiations.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex/Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Remembering Yesterday's Tomorrow (In the Here and Now) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824871
Comments: 73
Kudos: 199





	1. Walking, Waiting, and Hesitating

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Part 5 is UP.  
> For those who have been keeping an eye on this series but haven't read all parts, or for those who just found this story, parts of Ahsokas story might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read "Walking Away." You don't need to have read it, but I would recommend doing so.  
> I have no idea how long this story will be, I'm thinking around 5-6 chapters, but I just don't know at the moment.  
> College does start up soon and I anticipate that my chapters are only going to be longer with each posting, as a result, chapters won't be coming out as quickly as they have been. I ask for your patience.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The darkness stretches infinitely. Ahead of her, the only thing Ahsoka can see is the bright shape of Morai, the convor unfailingly flying forward, and the ever-constant blackness that presses in from all directions. And it does press like a physical weight —she can feel it on her skin, a cross between the atmosphere of a planet that has a different gravity, and being submitted in water.

She is viscerally reminded of her time spent in the World Between Worlds, where the rules of conventional gravity and time did not apply. But in comparison, this place feels wild, untouched. No paths of light or dancing stars or infinite doors mark the landscape. It hadn't occurred to her before now that the World Between that she had experienced with Ezra had been artificial, constructed by someone or some group to be just as much a part of the temple on Lothal as any other room or mural.

Walking through the endless void, it seems a little obvious in retrospect.

It's unclear how long she has been following her avian companion, concepts such as hours, minutes and seconds, have no use in this place. There is the sense that she has been walking for a while, but even that is only a vague notion that sits in the back of her mind like the dawning of an idea before it has coalesced. She only knows that she is not where she was when she set out, Rex's grave having disappeared from view almost as soon as she had decided to follow Morai.

_Rex._

Her heart twists at the thought of him; the aching loss still too fresh to be touched without dredging up the pain. She touches it anyway; lets herself grieve without shame or obligation, remembering the joy along with the sorrow. His smile, hidden behind his beard, a little crooked and always so genuine; the sound of his voice as he sang in the shower, the embarrassed flush on his face when caught in the act, but willing to oblige with a song when asked; the way he never looked at her with resentment when she had to go and the overwhelming, pulsing, warm joy he broadcasted every time she returned, no matter how long she was away.

Deep inside, she wishes they had more time together, wishes that it hadn't taken so long for her to recognize that her feelings for the clone ran deeper than just friendship. Not the sweeping romantic feelings her old master harbored for his wife, or even the quiet longing between Obi-wan and Santine. It had taken her years to realize that she didn't have those sorts of inclinations and even longer to reconcile it with her ability and capacity to love. She's still not entirely sure she understands it herself but is forever grateful for Rex, who took the time to try and understand and learn, put in his share of effort to make things work between them.

A chirp from Morai brings her back to her surroundings, a little surprised to find that she had stopped walking at some point, her cheeks damp with tears. The bird hovers before her, head tilted with concern, and settles on Ahsoka's shoulder, nuzzling her beak against the Togrutas montral.

Despite herself, Ahsoka smiles and gently strokes the soft feathers before drying her eyes. Morai hoots once before taking off back into the dark, and Ahsoka, heart still full, follows.

\---

To say that Anakin Skywalker is frustrated would be the understatement of the galaxy. It's been almost two weeks since Umbara, two weeks since he left his men in the hands of Krell, two weeks of his Captain being locked away for doing something Anakin does not, cannot fault him for. Just thinking about Krell brings a snarl to his face.

 _Good riddance,_ he thinks as he works on writing up his latest report, jamming the stylus too hard against the datapad screen. Not even the sun, shining brightly through the window by his desk, or the feeling of thousands of lifeforms in the force bustling around Coruscant, can lighten his mood.

Yes, Anakin Skywalker is frustrated and angry. Frustrated because Rex doesn't deserve to be kept as a prisoner, mad because he should have known. What good is being the kriffing chosen one if he can't spot a karking Sith Sympathiser when they are standing right in front of him?

All at once, the anger leaves him and is replaced, as it has been off and on since he got the news of Umbara, by the underlying guilt and shame. He should have been there, not flying back to Coruscant to take care of some whim of the Supreme Chancellors. 

For the first time in a long time, he resents his old friend. Rationally, he knows Palpatine must have thought he had a good reason, and that perhaps if it were anyone but Rex on the line, he would be able to forgive the older man after a few days. He knows he'll forgive his friend eventually; after all, it was an accident. It's not as if the old senator could have known Krell's true agenda.

But for now, Anakin is still mad. Because it's Rex, his second in command, one of the best damn soldiers he has ever known, and the missions haven't been the same without him, have practically ground to a halt in his absence. More than that, the Captain is one of the few people the Jedi truly considers as a friend. Someone who doesn't give two shits about the so-called prophecy or his relationship to it, who has seen him at his most ridiculous and still respects him. Is one of the two people -not counting Padmé herself- that knows about his relationship with his wife.

And friends don't just let friends sit in a cell, waiting on either freedom or a death sentence.

A knock on the door pulls him from his reverie.

"Enter."

The door opens with a swish, revealing, to his surprise, Obi-Wan, dressed only in robes for a change, his chest plate and vambrace elsewhere for the time being, looking haggard.

Amusement briefly flickers across the old bond from his Master, before Obi-Wan slumps into the only other chair in the room.

Glad for the excuse to set aside his report, Anakin turns to face the bearded man.

"I didn't expect to see you planetside."

"I'm only here for your Captains Court Marshal. I thought it best if I gave my testimony in person rather then via holo-call. I ship back out to the front lines tomorrow."

Anakin scowls at the mention of the trial but quickly drops it with a sigh.

"Thank you."

Obi-Wan nods.

"He's a good man and doesn't deserve to be punished for his actions on Umbara."

The bearded Jedi pauses in the way that Anakin has come to know means that his former Master wants to say something, but isn't sure how to approach the topic.

"Have you spoken to him yet?"

Inwardly, Anakin curses himself. He thought he had control over his tumultuous emotions, tight enough that they wouldn't spill into the bond with his master and let Obi-Wan glimpse his rolling guilt and anger. Apparently, his control wasn't as good as he had thought.

"Not yet, " he responds truthfully, picking back up the half-finished report and feigning interest, hoping that the appearance of having work to do will discourage Obi-Wan from his line of questioning.

It seems to work, as his former Master goes silent for a few moments. Just when he thinks that Obi-Wan has dropped the topic and that it's safe to put down the report, the older Jedi speaks.

"I think you should visit him. I imagine that it's starting to get a little lonely and that a supportive face might do Rex some good."

To anyone who hadn't grown up under the tutelage of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the double meaning would be subtle, sounding like nothing more than concern for the Clone Captains well being. Anakin does not have that disadvantage, and catches what his Master isn't saying. How visiting Rex might do him some good too.

Anakin takes a moment to breathe deeply before looking at his Master, a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue about being coddled this late in his life, only to cut himself off. Obi-Wan looks tired. Shoulders slumped forward, and the young Jedi briefly wonders how much of his Master's posture in the battlefield is due to the confines of his chest plate and pauldrons enforcing the rigid set to his shoulders.

Gently he reaches out through their shared bond, taking the measure of the bearded man's intentions. He finds nothing malicious, only love and concern, and it feels to his mind, forever the product of a hot and sandy planet, like a cool blanket being draped around his shoulders after a day working in the suns.

"I'll visit him tomorrow."

Obi-Wan smiles, and Anakin finds himself smiling back. With that, the conversation drops into a lull, the two men chatting aimlessly about one thing and another, before eventually checking back around to Obi-Wans up coming mission.

"Where is the Council sending you off to this time?"

"Kiros. It seems the colony there is feeling mounting pressure from the war and has requested aid."

Recognition sparks in the back of Anakin's mind. He was supposed to be joining that mission, but with the trial proceedings running longer than expected, the order had opted not to assign the Knight. Anakin understands the thinking, that doesn't mean he has to like it, but at the same time, he's grateful that he won't be abandoning Rex to his fate alone.

"They found someone to accompany you after all?"

Obi-Wan hums.

"Indeed. Master Ti found herself available, and we are hoping that her presence as a fellow Togruta will help things go over more smoothly."

Anakin huffs in amusement.

"They're an artisans colony, shouldn't be too hard."

The Jedi Master tilts his head in concession and smiles, relaxing back into the chair.

"It will be nice to have a relatively easy mission for a change."

\---

Rex is starting to go a little stir crazy. A side effect he had not considered when he had decided to take responsibility for Krell's death. His immediate thoughts had been to keep his men out of harm's way, fix one last piece of the mess that was Umbara.

In hindsight, his plan was a bit shortsighted, but he honestly didn't know what to expect after - if he would still be around or if the galaxy had finished toying with him and would let him march ahead and rest with his brothers.

Two weeks of waking up in a cell, at first on Umbara, later on, a star destroyer, and finally on Coruscant, had cemented the notion that the Captain was in this ~~whatever this is~~ for the long haul. It had also lost its novelty rather quickly. Despite the growing restlessness, only alleviated by the occasional walk to and from the senate building to give testimony, it has given him time to think. Even so, he hasn't come to a decision and so he runs through his options one more time.

He knows Palpatine is corrupt, is the shadow figurehead wielding two separate armies for control of the galaxy, is responsible for the death and misery of millions.

It would be easy to do nothing. To let the war and rebellion play out as they did. He knows that Palatine will get what's coming to him in due time.

Rex buries his face in his hands and feels like a coward for even considering the idea. But the alternative is daunting: Stop the Empire before it can even exist, more so then it already does (it's sickening to see how much is already in place, to realize that between the Separatists and the Republic, the Empire already stretches across the Galaxy, is in every home and hyperspace lane. Seeds of a dark and totalitarian regime just waiting to sprout). He doesn't even know how he would start or if it's even possible to change things on such a large scale.

But things are already different. In small ways, yes, but still distinct from what they were.

Dogma, Hardcase, and a handful of other troopers that would have died (did die once) because of Krell's orders, alive and ready for a fight.

Burgeoning hope roots itself under his ribs, a fragile thing that Rex is afraid to cling too tightly to and accidentally kill, so he lets it sit near his heart, next to his joy and sorrow, and contemplates what it would take to change the fate of the galaxy.

 _Help,_ his mind supplies, _I need help._

He can't do this alone. It's a risk involving others- letting anyone in on the knowledge he has, or even his suspicions, will raise questions, some that he won't be able to answer truthfully. Even in the privacy of his own mind having experienced it for himself, time travels as an explanation sounds ridiculous, and not everyone will be as willing to believe him as Fives.

And although Rex trusts his brother and knows that Fives will have his back in this, two soldiers do _not_ a rebellion make. But it is a start.

More than people, Rex needs information, connections that can help him prove the Chancellor's corruption. His own set of skills in information gathering is, admittedly, limited, although more comprehensive than it was before he had lived through the Empire. But success hinges on convincing people to join him, and for that, he needs proof.

A face comes to mind, unbidden, and it gives the Captain pause. His first instinct is to bury the idea as deep as he can. Senator Amidala is, by all counts, not someone Rex wants to risk in this endeavor. But he can't deny that she would be nearly perfect for the task, is reasonably sure that she already has a list of the Chancellors more questionable decisions and policies.

The longer he thinks about it, the better he likes the idea. She's an intelligent woman, who Rex knows (if he can recruit her) will understand the risks and the stakes, knows she already has connections of her own, and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty.

One thing is for certain, should he find out, General Skywalker will kill him.


	2. Trial and Misdirection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said the chapters would be longer, I was not kidding. This chapter alone has pushed this series officially into the "Longest thing I have ever written" category.  
> Towards the end, Rex is dealing with a bit of a panic attack and the joys of dealing with an adrenaline rush. It's not graphic, but I understand that sometimes reading about someone dealing with anxiety is enough to drag your anxiety up too. Read at your own pace.  
> This chapter jumps around a bit in terms of time, I did my best to keep it from becoming too confusing. But if I missed something, please let me know. I want people to be able to enjoy the story, not have to sit down and write out a full timeline just to understand it.  
> Also, I have started a tag list on Tumblr for people that would like to get a personal notification whenever I update or write a new story. If you would like to be added to this list, I have a pinned post at the top of my dash and all you have to do is hit the like button.  
> This story, as it seems all my stories do, is taking off in a direction I did not predict. For those hoping to see the Kiros arc in detail, I make no promises. But I can say that there will be some BAMF Shaak Ti action to come.  
> I hope y'all enjoy!

If there is one small mercy that Rex has been granted by whatever force drug him back into a war he thought he was done with, its that between Umbara, the trial, and dealing with not being dead, he hasn't encountered Ahsoka yet. It is beyond strange to think of her as she must be now - still a part of the Order, not even up to his shoulder in height, her montrals nubs, ~~a child~~. He isn’t sure what it says about him that he's more confused and conflicted over the mere thought of his wife as a child then he is over being thrust into the past.

He shakes his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind as he paces around his cell. The return to Coruscant had been uneventful, as had the beginning of his trial. It had taken every ounce of self-control the Captain possessed to keep his cool as he stared up at the wrinkled face of the Chancellor. His hands trembled at his sides with the effort it took to keep from balling them into fists or, even more tempting, throttling the manipulative older man where he sat in his senatorial pod.

At one point, a few days in, their eyes had met, and Rex wondered if the Sith could feel his anger if he suspected that the Captain knew the truth about him or if Palpatine thought that the simmering rage was simply leftover from the incident with Krell.

He had been surprised, pleasantly so, when General Kenobi had come to present his testimony in person. The Jedi's calm presence had done much to settle Rex's nerves, which had begun to fray after two weeks of being in the same space as the Sith Lord and his tribunal.

The Jedi's testimony seemed to mark the start of deliberation, and Rex had been sent back to his cell to await the final ruling.

That was yesterday, and without the distraction of the trial to occupy his mind, he has turned his attention to figuring out his next course of action. ~~He ignores the treacherous voice of doubt that lingers in his mind. A voice that reminds him that it's all dependent on the trial and that, should he be found guilty, even with all the evidence on his side, there will be no one left alive that will know or care that Palpatine is a Sith.~~

It's only been a day, but he has a tentative plan. He needs to get a message to Senator Amidala, something she can’t ignore. The biggest issue he has found is in getting the message to her. It would be easier if the men of Torrent company weren't under unit isolation. Only Dogma, thanks in no small part to his reputation as a rule-following soldier, has been granted any freedom of movement, but even that is limited.

The Captain is so deep in thought that he completely misses the sound of approaching footsteps and is thoroughly caught off guard when someone clears their throat.

Standing on the other side of his cell door is a trooper and the only person other than Ahsoka that Rex has no idea how to address any more: Anakin Skywalker.

If seeing his brothers again brought untold levels of sadness, and the mere thought of Padawan Ahsoka is enough to scramble his thoughts, the reality of seeing his General is...conflicting. It was hard enough reconciling his memories of the man in front of him with the terror of Darth Vader after having lived the stories of the Sith's relentless anger and destruction during Rex's time in the rebellion. His internal conflict now isn't due to any of that, or at least not primarily. He wants to be happy to see the Jedi, and a part of him is, but he can’t help the wariness that fills him, knowing that the man on the other side of the door is the biggest threat to his plans to change the future.

The door opens with the hum of dispersing energy, and Anakin steps into the cell. Unaware of the Captain's personal conflict, he turns to his clone escort with a smile.

"We'll be fine. I'll shout when I'm ready to leave."

The red-painted trooper hesitates for all of a second, before nodding, re-engaging the energy barrier, and turning on his heel, leaving the two of them alone in the relative privacy of the cell.

As soon as the other clone is far enough away, the confident aura the taller man had wrapped around himself vanishes.

It's awkward, as the two stand there facing one another in total silence. Rex doesn't know what to say. It's obvious that coming to see him wasn't the Jedi's idea, not with how he holds himself by the door, chewing the inside of his lip.

"So, " Anakin starts, breaking the silence. "How are you holding up?"

Rex shrugs.

"I've been worse."

"Rex— I'm so sorry." The Jedi's face crumples, and his words sound ragged, drug up from the depths of his soul, laced with pain and guilt. They pour out of him, tumbling with alarming speed past the other man's lips, fed by a wellspring of guilt and responsibility that Rex knows runs deep and parallel to the Jedi's compassion.

It's not a secret how much pressure the General puts on himself, how he views the men under his command as his responsibility, how much he cares. It's one of the many things that has endeared him to the men of the 501st.

Hardcase's words to Dogma regarding the Jedi come to mind, _"They're still just people."_

It's such a simple truth. For all his power and Force given gifts, Anakin Skywalker is just a man. It's hard to remember sometimes, especially when the Jedi moves faster then any Vode could ever dream of when he can literally lift pieces of debris the size of a tank using his mind. Through the years, Rex has come to realize that no one forgets this fact more often than the General himself.

"Anakin." He brings up a hand to the Jedi's shoulder, halting the stream of apologies and forcing the taller man to look at him. "It wasn't your fault."

"Rex—"

"No, " the Clone cuts him off, not wanting to give Anakin the chance to plead his guilt more then he already has. " _It wasn't your fault_."

There are many things that Rex blames him for, a lifetime worth and with good reason, but Umbara isn't one of them -it never was, not even the first time around.

If he were actually the young soldier that he looks and not the older man that he knows he is, less experienced and not as used to the feeling of a force user reaching out, Rex might have jumped at the feeling of something brushing up against the edges of his mind. It's disconcerting, suddenly being made aware of something that a few moments previously he had no sense of existing, let alone being a part of him in any tangible way – like the ache in a muscle that had never known pain before and had gone unnoticed for so long, suddenly making itself known. Instead, he twitches as the other man slips inside with gentle touch, barely dipping past the surface of the clone's mind.

The Jedi feels like a vein of pure sunlight against his mind, incredibly bright but with an undercurrent of electricity. It is different from what he's used to, certainly not the soft earthen feel of Ahsoka or the cool breeze feeling he associates with Ezra, but something wholly Anakin. Before he can start to wonder what he should do if the taller man decides to look deeper, the feeling recedes, and he is once again alone in his mind.

He's not sure what that was all about, but Anakin seems more relaxed under his hands, at least until his actions register. When they do, Anakin looks chagrined and ashamed at his invasion of privacy, eyes wide.

"I didn't even think. Rex, I am so sorry."

"It's fine, " he reassures. It's a lie, a partial one, because, for one heart-pounding second, there was a chance that the General would have looked too deeply, seen the lifetime of memories, learned too much. "But next time, ask first?"

Anakin smiles and nods.

“Will do Rex.”

They move over to the bed, the heaviness from Umbara hangs in the air, but it's not as choking as it was. Conversation flows bouncing from one topic tot he next until it lands, as it so often does with the Jedi when he is confident in the privacy of their conversation on Padme.

As much as Rex likes the Senator, there is only so much he can stand to listen to when it comes to her daily routine and all the things she gets up to in her spare time. He's somewhat ashamed to admit that most days, he would tune out some of Anakin's dialogue, hum in the appropriate places, and ask questions when it felt like the right thing to do. Today though, he pays attention. Every detail, every anecdote- listening for something he might be able to use.

He finds it in an offhand comment, a passing thought that the General throws out and doesn't address again, something the clone wouldn't have thought anything of under normal circumstances, because of course its something Padme would do. He tries to pay attention after that, but Rex is distracted, rolling the idea around in the back of his mind, feeling out the plausibility.

Anakin takes his leave not long after, citing a personal engagement, and parts from the Captain with a small smile.

Rex flops back on his bunk and stares up at the ceiling before nodding to himself.

At least that’s one problem solved.

\---------

An easy mission. Offer aid to a group of colonists against the ravages of the war. Simple.

One of these days, Obi-Wan would learn to watch what comes out of his mouth and not tempt the universe.

And unexpected calls from Master Yoda never bode well for mission difficulty.

The bearded Jedi can feel a headache coming on, and the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose is intense.

"Desperate, they are. Fear I do, what may happen now that the Separatists have reached the colony. Hurry, you must."

An urge that only grows stronger with each word from the Grand Master.

Beside him, Shaak Ti is a steady presence in the Force, her ever-present sense of calm washing over the human and grounding him away from his frustrations.

"Of course, Master Yoda. We will be entering Hyperspace soon, and rest assured that we will proceed with all due haste."

The holo-projection nods, and after exchanging short farewells, vanishes.

Obi-Wan sighs, and indulges in running a hand down his beard before looking over at his fellow council member.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

The Togrutan Jedi smiles ruefully, familiar with Obi-Wans often prophetic 'bad feelings.'

"We best keep that in mind when we reach the planet."

The two turn and walk away from the briefing table, heading toward the bridge. The durasteal doors opening with a swish, revealing a bustling room: Clones and droids alike going about their business, occasionally looking up and nodding at the passing Jedi.

"I admit, I was surprised to learn that you would be the one accompanying me on this mission."

"I can't be on Kamino all the time, and I heard that you needed a partner. How is the court marshal progressing?"

"Slowly, which is concerning in it's own right." Obi-Wan admits with a sigh.

Master Ti looks at him in a way that is unique to the Togrutan Jedi, somehow scrutinizing without being judgmental. It is, Obi-Wan has determined, a very motherly thing, and it never fails to make him feel as if he has been stripped naked before her gaze, an open book.

“There is something else that bothers you.”

“Aside from our present situation?” He tries for humor but misses the mark somewhat judging by the expression his fellow Master gives him. The red-haired man lowers his voice, almost to the point where he might be talking to himself, but confident that the Togrutas superior hearing will catch his words all the same, careful to keep his head and eyes up as if he isn’t trying to keep others from eavesdropping.

"I find myself troubled at how long Krell went without his true intentions being discovered. And it has raised questions in my mind about the," he hesitates, looking for the right way to phrase it and hopes that Shaak will be able to read between the lines, “Sanctity of our Military and Government.”

Master Ti purses her lips and tilts her head ever so slightly, clearly in thought. When she speaks, her words are measured, and Obi-Wan knows that much like himself, she is talking in the code of things unsaid.

"The Captain and his men did the right thing and should not be punished for it."

Its Obi-Wan’s turn to smile ruefully.

"If only all politicians shared your thinking, Master Ti."

The human Jedi would very much like to continue the conversation, preferably somewhere that they can speak more freely. But it will have to wait as the two reach the front of the main deck and Cody approaches.

“Any news, Generals?”

“I’m afraid so. It would appear that the Separatists were able to reach the colony ahead of us.”

The scarred clone looks between the two Jedi.

“And what of the colonists?”

“Unknown at this moment. For now, unless we hear otherwise, we will be proceeding as planned to the planet Kiros.”

“How long until we reach the system?” Shaak asks.

"Ten days, sir."

Obi-Wan frowns, but there is nothing that can be done about the stretch of days, not without risking damage to the ship and crew.

Shaak nods, and although she phrases it like a question, her next words are undoubtedly an order.

"If you would make sure that everything is in order so that when we exit hyperspace, we will be able to depart immediately?"

"Of course General."

With a salute, the Marshal Commander takes his leave, and the bearded Jedi looks over at his companion. And he can see the same knowledge that flits around his mind reflected in Shask Ti's face: it's going to be a long ten days.

\---

As with every morning since his incarceration, Dogma arrives exactly at 08:00 to give Rex a brief rundown of the goings-on in the 501st during his absence. While useful and occasionally humorous, Rex suspects that it has less to do with keeping him abreast of the current situation, and more to do with making sure he is still alright. It's heartwarming and concerning in equal measure; nice to know that they care, but comes with the implication of an extraction plan should Rex indicate he needs one.

More concerning is that it has been a standard week since General Kenobi spoke on his behalf, days since his General came to visit him, without any word as to the proceedings. The extraction plan has started to look more and more tempting with each passing day.

Laying on his back, Rex fiddles with his ring, still secured to the chain around his neck, and tries to clear his mind. _Patience_ , he reminds himself because, despite the growing anxiety, he is exactly where he needs to be — on Coruscant and not far from the Senate building — just not under the circumstances he would like.

He's done more with less.

The telltale sound of armored boots down the hall catches his attention, and the blonde quickly sits up, hiding the ring once again beneath his blacks, and affects the most relaxed pose he can. Sitting on his bunk, head tilted back against the wall and eyes closed; Rex listens closely to the gate of the approaching clones, three in total, for the distinct sound of one particular brother's footfalls.

_Shhclick_ — _shhclick—shhclick_

He has to school his expression to keep the nauseating mix of giddy anticipation and anxiety from reaching his face when he hears the slight dragging, but well disguised, limp of his brother's steps. Rex waits for the first two troopers to pass before sitting forward.

"Commander Fox, a moment?"

All three men stop and look at him, and he can hear the blood pounding in his ears as he feels more than sees the red-painted Commander assess the request. Inwardly, Rex sighs in relief when Fox gives his men a brief nod, sending them on their way and approaches the cell.

Rex stands and meets the man at the door, coming to parade rest.

"What is it?"

"I was hoping you might be able to tell me something."

Even though he can't see Fox's face, Rex knows that the other man is giving him a disapproving glare. It's the only certainty he has with this particular brother, who, even when he isn't wearing the helmet, is almost unreadable. Despite being rank equals on paper, Rex can't help feeling like a shiny receiving a reprimand under Fox's scrutiny.

"I can't share information about ongoing trials with involved parties."

Rex shakes his head and ignores the voice in the back of his mind telling him to stand at attention.

"Nothing like that, it's about a piece of legislature actually. I heard word a few months back that Senator Amidala of Naboo was drafting a bill for Sentient Rights. I was wondering if it had reached the floor or if it's still in the editing stages?"

Fox tilts his head; it's a slight thing almost unnoticeable if Rex wasn't watching his brother so closely, and the Captain isn't sure what to make of the reaction.

"No, it hasn't reached the floor yet."

The Captain hadn't thought so, but the confirmation is nice.

"Then, could I ask you to pass on a message? Let the Senator know that the 501st will be following the bill's progression with interest."

It's a shot in the dark, asking Fox to relay his message. Rex isn't particularly close to the Commander, partially due to a slight time difference in batching, partly due to their different deployments, but mostly due to the animosity between the Coruscanti Guard and the battalions on the front lines, especially the more rowdy men in the 501st who have got it into their heads that because the Guard isn't fighting on the front lines, it makes them less of soldiers than those who are. And although the Captain does try to put a stop to any provocation on his men's part, Rex doesn't know how high up the chain of command Fox's feelings of antipathy may run.

Fox may very well deny his request, and frankly, the blonde wouldn't blame him.

"Is there anything else?" The Commander asks, voice inflectionless.

Rex shakes his head.

"That was all."

Fox spares the time to give a brief nod, which Rex returns, before walking away, and Rex waits until he is confident that his brother is out of earshot before releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding and dropping his head against the metal door jam with a thunk.

\---

There are those under his command that swear Commander Fox must have some kind of psychic ability to know some of the things that he does, predict where and when something will happen. The rumors as to the origin of this ability are varied, from force sensitivity to genetic manipulation on the part of the Kaminoians. The truth, Fox, knows, would disappoint more than a few people. He is simply observant; he has to be with the number of things (ranging from mundane to absurd) that he deals with daily.

Not psychic power, not magic, not genetic manipulation, just a keen sense for when things are anomalous. 

And its that sense that’s telling him, as he walks away from the cell block, that the Captain of the 501st is up to something. Until a few minutes ago, he had his suspicions, nothing actionable, just a general feeling he got when around the other clone.

But now...Well, suffice it to say that whenever the Senator from Naboo becomes involved, Fox goes on high alert.

Not that he has anything against her, by every reckoning she is one of his favorite Senators to deal with — is one of the few the Commander is certain knows him by name and not just rank. But if there is one thing that Padmé Amidala is, it's a political intrigue magnet. There are times when the Commander is sure that she goes out of her way to stir up trouble in the name of justice.

Add to that any involvement of the 501st, and whatever it is the Captain has embroiled himself in makes for a guaranteed headache with a potential side of interplanetary war.

As the red-painted Clone makes his way from the cells and into the Senate Building proper, he acknowledges that it could be a coincidence. After all, Senator Amidala is close with the 501st thanks to her relationship with their General (who they think they are fooling, Fox doesn't know, but he will grant them that it is simultaneously the best and worst kept secret in the Senate, with the exact nature remaining a mystery). It wouldn't be beyond the realm of possibility that Captain Rex had somehow heard about Amidalas pet project and is merely curious how it is progressing.

The Commander doubts it, especially considering the bill in question. Fox only knows about the Sentient Rights Bill by chance, knows that the Senator has been keeping her draft and its existence close to her chest, would be very surprised to learn if Senator Amidala has shared it with anyone except, perhaps, Organa.

Which begs the question, how does Rex know about the bill?

It doesn't take long to reach the senatorial space, and he finds his way to Amidala's office from memory alone. He does have to wait a few minutes after ringing the door chime for permission to enter, and when he does, he is not surprised to find General Skywalker reclining in a chair by one of the expansive windows. The Senator is behind her datapad scattered desk, her hair in an elaborate set of braids as is her norm, and she smiles brightly when the clone enters the room.

"Commander Fox, I didn't expect to see you today. Is there something I can do for you?"

"No, Ma'am, just delivering a message. I didn't mean to interrupt."

He looks between the Senator and the Jedi, Skywalker adjusts his position slightly, face carefully neutral in such a way that it looks both artificial and uncomfortable. Amidala only smiles and waves her hand dismissively.

"You didn't interrupt anything; we were just talking is all." Its a testament to her acting abilities that Fox almost believes her. "What is the message?"

Fox relays what Rex had asked him to, word for word, and watches as the Nabooian Senators eyebrows climb her forehead.

"Captain Rex, you said?"

"That's right, Ma'am."

He catches the glance between Amidala and Skywalker: her unspoken question, the Jedi's answering microscopic sheepish nod/shrug and his returning question, her momentary pursuing of lips as she thinks over her response that gives way to a small, but relaxed, smile.

The whole interaction takes less then a second, and if he hadn't been looking, Fox is certain he would have missed it entirely. Despite his professionalism, the clone can't help but lift his eyebrows in interest, thankful for his helmet obscuring his expression.

There are many things that Fox gleans from the short exchange. Most prudent to his concerns, being that Rex knows details about the relationship between the General and the Senator, details that Senator Amidala was unaware of the Captain knowing. With that in mind, Rex's casual knowledge of the bill makes more sense, but Fox still has his doubts, puzzle pieces that don't quite fit in their current arrangement, but that don't make sense anywhere else.

He sets those thoughts aside as Senator Amidala turns her attention back to him.

"Thank you for relaying his message Commander Fox. I’m sure that its somewhat outside of your job description."

“It was no trouble, Ma’am.”

With that, the Commander nods and takes his leave. From the corner of his eye, he catches Amidala turn to her Jedi, poised to speak, but her words are cut off by the door shutting behind him. The clone takes off at a steady pace, heading back to his small, if neat, office. Despite its size, the room is a comfort, a small piece of space that Fox can say is his, and he is looking forward to being able to sit for a few moments, the dull aching of his right knee demanding attention.

By the time he reaches the room, his old injury is pounding, and easing into his chair is a welcome relief. He takes a moment to remove his helmet and gently rub at the aching joint, briefly imagining the hell he would receive if Stone found out he was pushing his leg again. In the relative safety of his private room, without having to worry about suddenly encountering a threat or a Senator, he lets his mind go over the information he has gathered.

Rex knows about the true nature of Amidala and Skywalkers' relationship. But Amidala was unaware that he knew, making the Captain an unlikely choice for her to confide in. But, the Commander concedes, that doesn't mean the General wouldn't have confided in Rex.

And, Fox supposes, he probably shouldn't have been surprised at his brother's interest in the bill. Not with how closely it pertains to all the clones and their liberties.

But still, the timing is odd. Why bring it up in the middle of a court marshal and not after? Why ask Fox and not some other clone to deliver the message?

The Commander sighs and shakes his head, the questions swirling around his mind too numerous to be satisfied by the simple answer. There is more to it, he's sure.

A notification from earlier in the morning draws his attention—a communique regarding the Court Marshal. Technically, the Commander shouldn't be privy to any of these messages, but being head of security has its perks, one of which being that no one blinks an eye when he says he may have found a security breach in a message thread and that it needs checking over. He's not above lying to get information. After all, information is the lifeblood of his job.

He reads over the message for what must be the fiftieth time, Tarkin's words no less concerning than the first read-through.

_—Without suitable supervision, it the the belief of this jury that CT-7567 is unsuitable for re-installment into active duty. Although his actions have been found justifiable, should the trooper in question as well as his comrades go free without further penalization, it would set an alarming precedent for the treatment of so-called battlefield "fragging" incidents. Furthermore—_

Fox has to set the pad down, least his frustration get the better of him. He is, first and foremost, loyal to the Republic, with his men coming up a very close second in the list of his priorities. The rest of his brothers, to a lesser extent, come in third.

It takes a matter of seconds to type a line of text at the bottom of the message, and he knows that what he's doing quite probably constitutes as an overreach of his authority. But there is something bigger going on, and Fox needs to know, and the Captain of the 501st is the only clue he has.

The message sends with a soft notification sound and, not for the first time, the Commander wonders if he's in over his head.

\---

Its either incredibly late at night or horrifically early in the morning when Rex is woken by the sound of someone rapping on one of the metal pillars of his cell door. The instinct to reach for his blaster kicks in before his brain is fully awake, and its the panic of not finding either at his hip that jolts him into consciousness.

Commander Fox stands at the door to this cell, helmet under one arm, looking at Rex with an appraising eye.

"The proceedings have reached a verdict."

What little of his mind that was still asleep wakes up at the news, and he quickly climbs to his feet, smoothing out his blacks as he stands.

Fox opens the door, but instead of leading him out of the cell, the Commander steps in, and for the first time, Rex notices the bag carefully tucked alongside the helmet under his brother's arm.

The dark-haired clone unceremoniously thrusts the bag in the Captain's direction, and Rex silently thanks his reflexes for being the only reason he doesn't drop the package.

"The trial resumes in thirty. Get cleaned up."

Fox's face betrays nothing as he steps away and closes the door once again, not waiting for a response, and Rex knows an order when he is given one. With all due haste, the blonde opens the bag and finds a set of dress grays, a shaving kit, and a small mirror contained within. Unconsciously, he brings a hand up to his chin and the scruff that has developed during his weeks in the brig and contemplates if he should keep it or not.

Truth be told, he has missed his beard. For all that he first grew the thing to help mask his identity after order 66, it quickly went from being a necessity to something he enjoyed. When he looks in the mirror, he half expects to see snow-white hair and is somewhat taken aback by the golden color he finds, closer to his eyebrows then the rest of his hair, but flecked through with bright blonde that he knows -given enough time- will be the first to grey. He takes a moment to laugh at himself, the situation as a whole, and the million little ways he continues to have the rug pulled out from under his boots just as he thinks he has found some measure of stable footing.

And Rex knows he will have to deal with the reality of his situation sooner rather than later, that he can't keep pushing down and ignoring all the things that open the old wounds. Surviving two wars has taught him that much, at least. But he doesn't know when he can, and he's not entirely sure how, either. There is no manual for dealing with the aftereffects of dying and then waking up in the past, thrust into a war it had taken him years to come to terms with.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he thinks he can see the man he was before; an old face, tan and freckled from the sun, someone that lived a full life, peering back at him from the depths of his eyes.

But for now - he turns his head, examining his reflection- for now, he decides, he could use the shave.

There is, unfortunately, little he can do for the rest of his hair in the time given to him, but he is fortunate that it is still short enough to look presentable, even if it is longer then he would like.

He pulls on and adjusts the jacket just in time for Fox to return, helmet still off, and once again gives the Captain an assessing look. Rex straightens and lifts his chin, defiant in the face of the blatant appraisal. Although why Fox cares, Rex doesn't know, but he has never been one to back down from a challenge.

Whatever Fox sees, he must approve of because he nods once, and the cell door opens with the hum of dispelling energy. Rex steps out and falls into step behind the Commander, two other troopers following behind them with weapons at the ready.

Their steps echo off the hard metallic walls until they step outside and into the early morning light of Coruscant, where a speeder waits. Rex looks questioning to Commander Fox for an explanation, who only gestures for the Captain to enter the vehicle. The ride to the Senate seems to stretch on for an age, without any words exchanged. Pinned in by red-painted clones, Rex can feel his anxiety rise, and he forces himself to sit still and not reach for the ring around his neck. Instead, he closes his eyes and does his best to meditate how Ahsoka had shown him so long ago.

_"You need to relax." She chides, although he can hear the smile in her voice._

_Rex opens his eyes and raises a white eyebrow with false incredulity, but as always, when faced with one of her genuine smiles, he can't maintain his charade for long before grinning in return._

_"I thought this was supposed to help me relax?"_

_From where she sits next to him, she bumps her shoulder into his._

_"Help, being the keyword. "_

_"Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes before closing them again and taking a deep breath, trying to expel at least some of the tension in his shoulders._

_"I still say you get more out of this than I do."_

_He can hear her puff of laughter and the slight drag of her head tails on her shirt as she shakes her head._

_"Meditation is about more than connecting with the force even for force users, " something in her voice shifts, becoming softer and more measured, what Rex privately calls her teaching voice. "It's about grounding yourself in your body, away from the chaos and the outside world."_

The memory fades, until at that is left is the distant sound of her voice.

_"Feel the ground, or whatever it is, under you, how it supports you where you sit. Holds you up, pushes back against gravity pulling you down."_

Under his legs, he can feel the speeder humming as it flys along, the way the cushion still hasn't fully warmed from his body heat.

_"Feel the air as you breathe in, how it enters through your nose and fills your lungs."_

The morning air is cool, and as he inhales, he can feel his lungs expand, pulling his jacket tighter around the chest and pushing his back a little deeper into the seat.

_"Now, exhale."_

As he does so, he can feel his heart beating in his chest, the way the troopers beside him shift slightly in their seats.

He opens his eyes just as they pull up to the front of the Senate building. It takes Rex a moment to blink back into awareness of the world around him, and he finds himself more confused then he had been when directed to get in the speeder as to why he has been brought to the front entrance rather than walked through the side like usual.

The building as intimidating as it ever is, with it's grand ceilings and massive chambers, designed to impress upon all who enter how small they are in comparison to the might of what it represents. It is one of the Captain's least favorite places in the Galaxy, with very few places exceeding it.

The march through the halls is short, too short almost, and by the time they reach the doors to the trial room, Rex's anxiety has begun to make a resurgence. He takes a moment to take a deep breath and is surprised when Fox reaches out a hand and places it on his shoulder in an unexpected display of reassurance.

Stepping through the doors is like stepping into a nightmare. Not the kind where one relives their worst fears, but the ones that linger and cling to the mind, that seeps into the very fiber of ones being until the afflicted is left with a sense of doom and foreboding that lasts long after they wake up.

Looking up at the assembled Jury, Rex's anxiety continues to climb until it sits somewhere between his heart and his throat. It helps that he's not alone on his side of the courtroom, Fives, Jesse, Tup, Hardcase, and Dogma stand at attention off to the side, their armor cleaned until it shines, and the faint chemical smell of fresh paint drifting through the room. The only conciliation that truly makes this whole ordeal bearable is the sour look on Tarkin's face, borne of dissatisfaction. It is, overall, a good sign.

The trial resumes without fanfare, full of legal jargon that Rex only partially understands. About ten minutes in, Tarkin stands up. The air inside the courtroom shifts, taking on an edge anticipation, practically buzzing with the collectively held breath of all present. His heart pounds in his chest, hard enough that Rex can hear it in his ears. 

“After several days of deliberation, it is the findings of this court that Ct-7567, also known as Rex, and his compatriots have been found-” the air stills, and Tarkin looks down at the Captain, eyes narrowing in poorly disguised contempt, “Not guilty.”

The room breaks out in whispers, some excited (he can clearly make out Jesse over the mix of voices), some angry. Rex wants to be happy, but his eyes are still trained on the older man, and gone is the anger from Tarkin’s face, replaced with at tight lipped smile that fills the Captain with dread.

“However, to ensure that the units are suitable for active duty, they are hereby ordered to serve a one month probationary period with the Coruscanti Guard, after which a secondary evaluation will determine if he and the troopers are fit for reinstatement into active duty."

Their eyes lock, and something on the clone's face must amuse the natural-born man because his smile goes from thin to curling for just a second before he schools his features back to neutrality.

“Dismissed.”

The Captain's emotions swirl, relief and anger, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, making his whole body tremble slightly. He’s not looking forward to the crash that is to come, but there is nothing he can do about it, and for now, he's glad to be free of his cell. 

Hes unsurprised to find that Fox is waiting for him by the door.

“You and your men are to report tomorrow at 07:00 hours at the barracks for assignment and gear fitting. Don’t be late.”

“Understood Sir.”

It feels strange, suddenly being under another clones command, but if there were anyone it had to be, Rex is glad that its Fox. He's a good soldier and leader, if a little too blindly loyal for his liking, but he knows that the other clone will do right by him and his men for however long they are under his jurisdiction. He starts to walk away to find Hardcase, Jesse, Fives, Tup, and Dogma and relay the orders when a thought strikes him out of the blue. The bag of clothes, the way his men's armor was cleaned till it shined, not a hair out of place - professional and presentable.

Rex wheels around, mouth slightly agape.

“You knew the verdict ahead of time.”

And Fox _winks_ , mouth curled up on one side in the smallest lopsided grin Rex has ever seen. 

“Congratulations, Captain Rex.”

The blonde can’t help but grin back.

“Thank you, Commander Fox.”

Finding his men proves harder then Rex expected, with each of them seeming to have disappeared in a different direction, enjoying the ability to truly be able to stretch their legs after weeks of confinement. His own legs are beginning to feel like jelly, and his mind has started to fog, a sure sign that his adrenaline crash has begun. He's used to working through it thanks to long battles, where taking a break simply isn't an option. It’s unpleasant, certainly, and he will need to sit down and get something to eat before too long, but he can manage.

He finds Fives in a corridor not far from the trial room, silently fuming as he paces back and forth, his hands clenched in fists. The trooper turns when he hears Rex approaching, and nods tersely in greeting, a muscle in his jaw working as he clenches and unclenches his teeth.

“Are you alright?”

“Do I look alright?” The goateed man snaps.

A few of the passers-by startle and look at the two clones with worry. Rex shoots a glare at his brother, before smiling pleasantly at what he assumes are office aids. It does little to reassure them, and they hurry on their way, and as soon as they are gone, the Captain turns to his brother.

“Whats your problem?”

“My problem?” Fives scoffs, “My _Problem_? Oh, nothing much, really. I just spent almost a month in a cell for doing something completely justified, and on top of that, now have to spend one more month pacifying a group of nerf herders because they feel their authority has been threatened.”

Although he never shouts, Fives does get louder with each word and the vitriol behind them grows. 

Rex looks around uncomfortably. People are starting to stare, and the blonde simply doesn't have the energy to deal with being a part of a public scene. Fives doesn't look like he will be done any time soon, so Rex takes his brother by the arm and hauls them through the door to the first empty room he finds, which turns out to be a storage closet. Not an ideal space, small and cramped with a few buckets and a shelf full of maintenance supplies, but at least it's private.

Fives holds his tongue for as long as it takes for the door to slide shut behind them before launching back into his rant.

"It's a load of shit."

"Fives, " Rex tries, but his younger brother waves him off.

"It is and you know it. They can call it whatever they like, say that it's a probationary period for the greater good of the GAR. But it's humiliation, plain and simple."

The worst part is, Fives is right. Its a punishment and a warning all rolled into one, a reminder of their place and how much of it relies on the same people who put them on trial.

He has to physically take the ARC Trooper by the shoulders to make him stop pacing in the small space and even then, Fives turns away from him, his frustration making him fidgety.

"I know. But right now, we are _alive,_ not shipped back for decommissioning or worse _."_

Rex watches the words impact, how Fives glances at him, then looks away. Watches as the gears turn in his brother's mind as he sorts out the things Rex isn't saying. How alive is good, how it means they can do more, keep fighting. And this isn't the time or place to have this conversation, but the Captain knows that it never will be if he doesn't make time for it. There won't be a better time for it and has to know if Fives is still on his side if he's even willing to be a part of Rex's insane mission to change what's to come. He starts slowly as if he's speaking to a skittish animal.

"Back on Umbara, you said you would help." Fives is looking at him, brow pinched and mouth slightly open in awe and disbelief ~~(~~ there might be horror mixed in too, it's hard to say with the way they blend on his face, a face that is both familiar and foreign. Distantly, Rex wonders if he was ever this expressive) as the full implications dawn on the dark-haired clone.

"I need to know how far that help goes."

This is bigger than taking down a corrupt General, bigger than saving a few men. He can't assume, and he refuses to drag any brother in with him that isn't aware of what they are getting into. If they get caught, there won't be a trial or public execution.

He let's go of his brother's shoulders, and Fives is quiet for a while. Outside the door, people pass by, their steps growing and fading, unaware that only feet away two clones hide discussing what may well be the political coup of the century. Fives sits heavily on a bucket, rattling the supply shelf behind him as his armor brushes against it. Rex finds a bucket of his own, positioning it next to his brother in the cramped space before gently taking a seat, his hat in his lap.

"You said that there was more to things than what you told me?"

"I did."

Fives won't look at him, eyes trained on the ground, and Rex braces himself for whatever question will come next.

"Have you lied?"

The Captain inhales, hesitating briefly, deciding on honesty rather than more of the careful half-truths that seem to be all he has said in the last month.

"By omission."

Fives looks resigned, as if it was the answer he was expecting but not the one he wanted.

"How much did you leave out?"

"Most of it. Details, some big things, a lot of small things, people and places." The next part is painful to admit, but he's decided on honesty even though it sits like lead in his chest. "Some key things too."

Fives swears softly in mando'a, dropping his head and scrubbing his hands through his hair in frustrated exasperation.

"I want to help you Vod," His words come out a little forced, and as he speaks he finally looks the blonde in the eye. "But I can't if I don't know what you're trying to do — if you're keeping things, important things, from me."

Fives words are not new; they echo some of Rex's thoughts from the past weeks. But they also force him to produce an answer to a question he thought he would have more time to solve: How much of the future can he share?

Trust, he knows, is not a one-way hyperlane, nor is it something navigated blindly. That level of faith is a result of earned trust, not the other way around. Not if the people involved are smart.

And Fives? He's impulsive, and ideological —at times shortsighted— but _smart_. And Rex hears what the ARC Trooper is really saying, the deeper meaning that is weighted with an emotion that's borne of faith reaching out, hoping for faith in return _._

_I want to trust you,_ Fives appeals _, but I need you to trust me too._

Its Rex's turn to stare at the ground, unable to bear the gravity of his brother's earnest gaze in addition to the weight of his impending decision. But even that isn't enough, so he screws his eyes shut, blocking out everything he can to make space to try and articulate his thoughts.

"I can't tell you everything." He starts, slowly. "I can't. Its too risky, there's too much at stake."

He half expects to feel a hand rest on his arm, thinks he might cry if it happens, the added sensory input enough to tip the Captain over the emotional edge that his anxiety and nerves have been pushing him towards all day. The hand never comes, but he does hear his brother shift beside him on his seat.

"I understand. But Rex, if there's something that's over my clearance level, you need to tell me. I can't navigate a minefield if I don't know its a minefield."

And that—that's fair, the blonde decides.

Rex nods his head, a jerky motion that cracks a few vertebrae in his neck, but a nod none the less and it eases some of the emotional weight that has settled over both of them. He takes a second to draw in a deep breath before forcing himself to open his eyes and look at his little brother.

"There is something you should know."

It's not something the Captain wants to share, but it's essential. A piece of information that the rebellion could not have succeeded without, but stupidly simple at the same time. And his brother deserves to go into this insane plan with eyes wide open, to understand what he's getting himself into.

Fives looks at his brother expectantly, head cocked in curiosity.

"The Chancellor's the Sith Lord."

At that precise moment, the door opens. Rex very nearly upends his makeshift chair while Fives knocks over numerous cleaning supplies from the shelf behind them as the two clones bolt to their feet.

"Well, this is cozy."

From the doorway, voice laced with false cheer, Hardcase grins.


	3. Setting the Future in Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force places its final pawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!! I am so happy to get this chapter up at last!!! Between school and life in general I had to take a bit of a break from working on the story. I'm not sure if this chapter warrants any warnings, or at least any new ones. Rex still isn't doing alright, so heads up for feelings of being overwhelmed. If you think I should add any tags, let me know in the comments or over on my Tumblr. Also, someone is sick to their stomach. Its brief and not detailed, but you have been warned.  
> We finally have our two main characters in the same time period if not the same place, so, YAY! After this chapter, I'm going to be diving into Ahsokas' story line in earnest, so I hope this chapter fulfills the 501'st quota for a while. As promised, Shaak Ti is in this chapter being the amazing Jedi she is.  
> Special shout out to @misfitz-7 over on Tumblr for reading this chapter over! You helped smooth my rough draft so much, you don't even know.  
> As always, I want to say thank you to all you readers. Those that are seeing this story for the first time, and those who have been following this series from the beginning. I am always, always, floored by your support for this story and the fandom in general.  
> Enjoy!

It appears in a blink, and despite having thought that the void could no longer surprise her, Ahsoka is caught off guard by its sudden and silent appearance.

A door.

She takes a moment to observe it: Lit by no discernible source, it looks as though it were carefully pulled from a ships interior, its frame solid and cool under her touch without evidence of having been cut or removed by force: it simply exists as if it were always meant for this space and this space alone.

The togruta looks around, half expecting to see something that might give her a clue to its origins, but there is nothing but the endless blackness.

The world feels sharper somehow, the pervasive sense of infinity and endlessness that has followed her ever since she arrived feels reduced, squashed, finite the longer she stands in front of the door. Her sense of time creeps back into place like the slow trickle of water in a cavern that will eventually create a stalactite.

Overhead, Morai hoots happily before swooping down to land, perching on the arch, ruffling her feathers proudly.

It would seem they have arrived at their destination and it is only her old friend's joy at reaching the door that puts Ahsoka at ease.

She cannot linger in the space between seconds for much longer; she's a creature of a physical world, not this abstract existence. But—

She takes a step back and Morai tilts her head, hooting inquisitively.

But she _wants_ to. Wants to breathe in the freedom of being between, of not having to _be_ , for just a little bit longer. Away from her pain and loss and the constant action. Yet at the same time existing in this state of limbo has begun to feel less like being underwater and more like she's starting to drown.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

Deeper than the want, somewhere in her bones, is her need to move, to do. Things that will not, cannot, come of this place. And Ahsoka isn't sure where or when exists beyond the durasteal door, only that it _does_.

She opens her eyes and squares her shoulders.

That's good enough for her.

With cautious hands, she reaches out and presses the buttons on the locking mechanism, and the doors open with a soft woosh. A blinding light pours out from the opening, and she has to shield her eyes. She spares a quick look up at Morai, who ruffles her feathers excitedly and bobs her head, encouraging and confirmatory all at once.

One hand still raised, Ahsoka takes a hesitant step forward, and then another, pausing for just a second when she reaches the threshold, before - with more courage than she feels - plunging headfirst into the light. 

\--- 

Before Rex has time to react, Fives is already in motion, grabbing their brother by the neck hole of his armor and hauling him into the room with them. The already cramped space becomes downright claustrophobic with the addition of a third person. Hardcase looks as surprised as Rex feels when Fives pins the geometrically tattooed clone up against the supply shelves. 

“How much did you hear?” Fives growls, voice low.

Hardcase’s surprise quickly melts from his face, replaced with a snarl of his own. 

“Enough to know the two of you-” he shoots Rex a dirty look “-are keeping important information from your men.” 

Rex sighs even as Fives presses their brother harder into the shelving and pinches the bridge of his nose. If the closet wasn’t the ideal space to have his conversation with Fives, it is an even less ideal location for this confrontation, one that could quickly spiral into a full-blown brawl. Available space to maneuver aside, there is no possible way for this to go down without alerting passersby to some kind of commotion and would raise questions that Rex would prefer not to have to answer. That in mind, the Captain makes an executive decision and opens his eyes. 

“Fives, enough.” 

It's an order, not a request, said with the same tone that he remembers using when he first met Domino squadron on the Rishi outpost so long ago. His heart clenches briefly at the thought of the men lost, fighting a seemingly unwinnable fight until all that remained were Fives and Echo.

Oh force, _Echo_. He forces himself to keep from closing his eyes at the fresh wave of emotions that crash through him. His mind begins to spiral, overlapping thoughts, the formation of plans, regrets, and _How could I have forgotten?_ slipping around one another in a jumble. Rex is quick to shut it down until it's only a faint storm in the depths of his mind. Later, he knows, he can work through it later, but for now, he has more pressing concerns. 

His inner turmoil takes only a moment, and the other men are too absorbed in their own conflict to pay him much attention. His words have an immediate effect and Fives relaxes the pressure pinning Hardcase to the wall, although he doesn't let go. Fives reaction speaks volumes as to where he stands on the question of if he will help Rex or not, but the Captain would like verbal confirmation all the same.

"Not here."

Both men look like they want to argue, but a glare silences any protests before they can form.

"Clean up your mess and then meet me in the hall."

Neither man move or respond, their faces set in stony anger as they glare at each other from the corner of their eyes.

Rex almost grows in frustration at the orneriness. Instead, he puts that same energy into his next word. 

"Understood?" 

"Yes, Sir!" Both troopers respond.

The Captain doesn't wait to see if they will comply with the order, swiftly stepping over the fallen cleaning supplies and out into the blessedly empty hallway. He promptly buries his face in his hands and tries (unsuccessfully) to resist silently screaming into them.

He is nauseous, tired, and hungry, and now has to deal with two of his best men going at each other's throats like feral loth cats. 

He is, he thinks wearily, too old for this sort of shit. The thought catches up with the rest of his mind a moment later, and he snorts in self-deprecating amusement. Although not an experience that he would describe as enjoyable, not with the aches and pains and overall slowing that it brought, growing old did have its perks. Chief among them, the ability to take a nap in the middle of the day without anyone questioning him. 

He sighs loudly, which covers the sound of approaching footsteps until they are almost to him. 

_Shhclick—shhclick—shhclick_

Fox.

Rex hurries to attention. 

It's just his luck that right as the Commander - still helmetless but now with a datapad tucked under one arm - reaches him, a loud crash emanates from within the closet, followed by a string of colorful curses. 

"Should I be concerned, Captain Rex?" 

Rex isn't an idiot, and as much as he trusts the Commander to do right by him and his men, the last thing he needs is for him to start investigating. And it would be a lie to say that he's comfortable with having Fox in the same room as Fives for very long, some memories too fresh no matter how much time passes, even a lifetime later. 

So he opts for something he hopes will satisfy the Commander without sounding suspicious. 

"No sir, Commander, I've got it handled." 

Another loud string of curses rises, almost as if to directly prove him wrong, and the Captain cringes. Fox raises an eyebrow, face otherwise expressionless, so Rex hurries his explanation along. 

"After one month of confinement, tempers have worn…thin." 

Given his own emotional state after a month of waiting, it's not a stretch to assume his men are feeling something similar. It would, he realizes distantly, actually explain much of his men’s behavior that he's witnessed today. 

A brief look of understanding flits across Fox's face, before it resumes its neutrality. 

"Will this be a problem?" 

"No, sir, it won't. But-" the closet door opens, and Hardcase and Fives emerge looking disgruntled. "Should they give you trouble, you have my enthusiastic endorsement to assign them janitorial duty for the duration of our deployment under your command."

Both troopers have the decency to look appropriately horrified at the notion, Fives more so than Hardcase, and Rex can't resist one last jab at his brothers expense.

"It shouldn't be too hard for them, since they're already so well acquainted with the contents of a mop closet."

Fives sputters and Hardcase blanches, mouth working like a fish out of water. It's the most amusement Rex has had in a month, and it is gratifying to see that (when he turns his attention back to the Commander) Fox has the same microscopic smile from earlier on his face.

"Noted." 

The smile is gone as fast as it came, and yet Fox does not leave.

“Did you need something, sir?”

“The conditions of your probation have been ratified.” Fox holds out the pad, which Rex obediently takes from him. ”I expect you to be familiar with them before assignment tomorrow.” 

The floor drops out of the blondes’ stomach, and he looks down at the innocuous piece of technology with new found dread. 

“Yes, Sir.”

Rex waits until the Commander has left before picking the opposite direction and walking. He's not entirely sure where he is heading, the datapad burning a hole in his side where he holds it under an arm, not sure where on this planet he can go and be relatively sure they won't be interrupted or overheard in some way. Fives and Hardcase fall into step without a word, for which Rex is thankful.

His feet carry him outside and eventually to one of the docking areas. A few people mill about, maintenance crews and passengers alike, all chatting amongst themselves, their voices almost completely drowned out by the general noise of the ships and speeders as they pull in and out of the dock.

A stack of crates off on one side of the platform catches his eye.

It's not the ideal location, but Rex gave up on ‘ideal’ a long time ago, learned to work with what's at hand. At least three clones having a chat behind the cargo crates is infinitely less suspicious than three grown men in a closet.

Once tucked away behind the crates, Rex turns to the other men. Hardcase opens his mouth, clearly unwilling to hold his tongue any longer than absolutely necessary, but the Captain raises a hand and Hardcase reluctantly keeps quiet.

"Understand that what I'm about to say is not the kind of information that ever leaves you. Even if you decide you want nothing to do with what Fives and I are involved in, should the wrong people find out you know, they will hunt you down regardless."

Hardcase considers for a moment, and Rex is relieved to see that he is actually considering, not just plunging in, before nodding his head.

"Alright."

Rex takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

"How much did you hear?"

Hardcase shrugs.

"Just the end bit."

Just the treasonous part then, excellent. Before Rex can continue, Hardcase asks a question of his own.

"Is it true? About-" The clone gestures with his hand for emphasis, rolling his eyes slightly to focus on the thought "-The end bit?" 

"I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't."

Hardcase goes quiet, lost in thought. It never ceases to catch the Captain off guard when the tattooed clone turns all his attention to a topic. Loud, lively, active- all things Rex associates with Hardcase. But when he thinks, _truly thinks_ , the usually boisterous clone goes still, all movement abandoned in favor of putting that energy into thinking. Like someone hitting pause on a holo-film.

"Alright, I'm in."

Fives shoots Rex a look, one filed by worry and a little bit of remaining anger.

"Hardcase-" the ARC Trooper starts, hissing the name between clenched teeth. But the clone in question cuts the goateed man off with a glare.

"If what the Captain told you is true," slowly Hardcase shifts his gaze to Rex, holding intense eye contact that feels like it burns right through the senior clone, "then I'm guessing he's planning to do something about it. I'm also guessing that he'll need as much help as he can get. And if that means I get to help take down the leader of the separatist army and the greatest threat to the safety of the Republic, then I'm in." 

From the corner of his eye, Rex can see Fives looking back and forth between Hardcase and himself, but he pays him no mind. Instead, the Captain searches the face of the tattooed clone for any sign of doubt. But Hardcase has always been a man of conviction, and that is no less true now than before. Satisfied, Rex nods his head.

"Welcome to the team."

\---

Obi-Wan’s unease only grows as the days pass, until by the time they come out of hyperspace, it has settled into the area just behind his jaw, an ever present sour feeling that not even the strongest of teas can wash away.

If Shaak Ti is feeling the same unease, she hides it well, although they do exchange a worried glance as they climb aboard the shuttle that takes them down to the planet's surface. She has, the human Jedi notes, opted to travel without her brown robe, exposing her arms and the half sleeve like garments that she wears. She garners many curious looks from the assembled troops, many of which, Obi-Wan knows, had their training overseen by the Togrutan woman and who likely had never seen her without the trappings of the traditional Jedi outer-garment before. The double takes and surreptitious glances are amusing to witness and bring an unexpected spot of levity to the day. He holds the memory of them close to his mind, a reminder that the grim wariness that has settled over both Jedi and Troopers alike does not exclude the ability for joy. It's a lesson that gets harder to remember the longer the war drags on.

The shuttle touches down with a slight bump, and everyone braces for the doors to open, uncertain what awaits them outside.

The first thing that Obi notices is the lack of immediate danger, and he relaxes by a fraction before stepping out. The second thing that registers is how empty the settlement feels. More than just people not being outside, the sensation in the force that he gets when examining their surroundings is devoid of life.

He spares a glance towards Shaak Ti, and from her seat atop her hover bike, Obi Wan finds the Togruta looking back at him. Her mouth is set in a stony line, and her front lekku remain stiff when she shakes her head. It is a grim confirmation, one that he tries not to dwell on as his Commander comes up to his side.

“Is everything alright General?”

Obi-wan sighs and looks around the abandoned street.

“I don’t like this Cody.”

Cody is quiet for a moment, and the Jedi gets the impression that behind his helmet, the Clone Commander is also taking time to observe the deserted settlement.

“Should I inform the men to expect an ambush?”

Obi-wan glances at the clone from the corner of his eye, eyebrow lifting slightly and the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips.

“You expect a trap?”

Judging by the tilt of his head, Obi-wan is certain he could guess the exact look the Marshal Commander is giving him from behind his helmet.

“You don’t?”

That earns a chuckle from the Jedi.

“Inform the men, Commander, to be on their guards. Better safe than sorry.”

Obi-Wan takes one last look around before sighing deeply and climbing onto his hover bike, ignoring the way his unease has shifted to the pit of his stomach.

Minutes later and the group is speeding down the empty streets, making their way towards the center of the colony and the assembly building. The wind whips past at incredible speed and Obi-Wan distantly wishes that he had followed Master Ti’s lead in changing out of the traditional garb. The loose fabric around his wrists thrashes painfully against his skin, and the flapping of his tunic is almost loud enough to drown out all sound except for the wind and the hum of the bike. Not that there is much to hear. Comm updates have been sporadic at best, and without Anakin to provide a running commentary the ride has been positively quiet.

He’s not sure he likes it.

Truth be told, the bearded Jedi had been looking forward to working with his former padawan again. Despite working together more often than any other Jedi pair Obi-Wan can think of, the war does still keep them apart and he hardly counts sharing a battlefield as quality time. War is still war, regardless of who you fight beside. 

"We have company.”

Shaaks’ voice cuts through the comms and it doesn't take long for Obi-Wan to see what she is referring to. Biker Droids, a half dozen or so, pour into the street ahead of them. From the sidecar, Cody powers up the blasters, and somewhere behind him he hears the sound of a lightsaber being ignited. Orders are given, and the squad comes into formation just as the droids begin to fire.

The shootout doesn't take long, and casualties are minimal, but they do need to send a trooper who was unfortunate enough to have his bike shot out from under him sent back to the ship for a broken leg. Still, it could have been worse.

Obi-Wan slows his bike slightly, letting Master Ti and her ride companion (Boil, judging by the paint) pull up alongside.

"What do you think?" The human Jedi shouts over the wind.

Shaak considers for a moment.

"I expect we will encounter resistance when we reach the city center."

Resistance would be putting it mildly. 

When they reach the city center, they find at least a full battalion waiting for them. That doesn't mean the battle takes long. Although occupied with his own droids, Obi-Wan takes a moment to observe his fellow Jedi in battle. Shaak Ti’s combination of Ataru and Makashi had always amazed and baffled the bearded man in equal measure, even as a youngling. Although personally familiar with the deceptively precise nature of Form IV, its aggressive and strength reliant technique had always seemed at odds with the efficiency required for Form II. But as the last tank goes down under the careful blade work of Master Ti, he cannot deny that in the hands of the Togrutan Jedi, it is a devastating combination.

Soon enough, the main battle is over and Obi-Wan hears Shaak instructing the men to finish securing the area. What blaster fire he hears is distant and brief and soon enough he and Master Ti are pouring over maps of the area.

“General,”

Obi-Wan looks up while Shaak continues her scrutiny of the map and finds the Commander of the 212th striding towards them.

“Cody, any word from the Separatist Commander?”

“He’s barricaded inside.” The clone spares a quick look over his shoulder at the central most building. “His name is Darts D’Nar. He has sent you a message, sir.”

Beside him, Shaak looks up as Cody pulls out a holoprojector, and the two Jedi exchange a look.

The name is not one he has heard before, and judging by the curiosity painted on her face, neither has Master Ti. Despite himself, the bearded man finds himself wondering just what kind of sapient this particular separatist is. He soon gets his answer as the holoprojector clicks on, and suddenly, Obi-Wan is incredibly grateful Anakin isn't here.

Zygerrian.

Slavers.

He works to keep his expression neutral even as his unease shifts to bone-chilling dread, and his mind pieces together what the Zygerrian involvement must mean for the wellbeing of the colonists.

The message is blessedly short, inviting the human Jedi to begin negotiating terms for surrender.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to make a quip, in an attempt to shake off his unease, when Shaak speaks.

“I will go.”

“Master Ti, he asked for me.”

She looks at him, already stripping off her outer skirts for better mobility, until she is left in her tights, kama, and boots.

“You would give him that advantage?”

It's easy to forget that behind the quiet and matronly image the Togrutan Jedi portrays, Shaak Ti is one of the finest strategists and combatants in the Order. Although Obi-Wan admires and respects her greatly, it is difficult sometimes to track her thought process, her ideas and insights just a little _left_ of his own. Unlike with Anakin, who Kenobi knows like the back of his hand, it's difficult to gauge what exactly the Togurtan sees that he doesn't.

“And what of the colonists?” The red-haired man presses, crossing his arms. “If we don't comply, D’Nar will have no qualms about using the colonists that are here to make a point.”

Shaak Ti passes her bundled up garments to the nearest clone and fixes her fellow Jedi with a look reminiscent of their shared days as temple younglings.

“You don't really believe that.”

That D’Nar would not hesitate to use hostages as living shields, Obi-Wan has no doubts. That there are any hostages here, on planet…? He reaches out with the force, searching more deeply than his cursory examination when they first touched down. Aside from a few small animals, the plant life, and the Clones they came with he feels...nothing. Certainly no force signatures large enough, turbulent enough, to belong to any of the Colonists.

Damn her, but she's right.

With a sigh, he drops his arms.

“Alright. But I want to run a city-wide scan, just to be certain.”

Shaak Ti tilts her head in concession before starting to walk towards the central building.

“I intend to force his hand. Be ready to move on my signal.” She calls back over her shoulder.

Cody looks at his General for explanation, but Obi-Wan can only shrug.

He has no idea either.

\----

Sleep had not come easily after the conversation with Hardcase. After forcing himself to remain awake for the rest of the day in a misguided attempt to maintain something resembling a uniform sleep schedule, holding his eyes open took great effort. But despite the bone deep exhaustion that Rex was used to coming as part of an adrenaline high, his mind refused to quiet.

It was, in part, due to Hardcase himself. Although Rex trusted the man’s loyalty and conviction, a part of him did wonder if the other clone truly understood what he was getting himself into. Never mind the fact that the clone’s existence, no matter how happy the Captain is to see the man still alive, is an unaccounted-for variable.

It’s both encouraging and daunting. Change, real change, is possible, but it’s a stark reminder for the blond that the more he changes, the less he will be able to predict what will happen.

But, Rex admits, Hardcase cannot claim to be the sole, or even the main, cause of the Captains insomnia. No, that dubious honor belongs to a different set of clones entirely, and without the threat of a closet brawl demanding his attention, Rex’s mind could no longer push away the topic: Echo and Fives.

It is not that Echo himself poses a problem. No. Rex has no intention of leaving his brother in the clutches of the banking clan any longer than he must. That plan is blessedly straightforward but still takes up a portion of his thoughts. 

Fives on the other hand poses a much larger set of questions. Rex is glad to have his brother with him, overjoyed to have him on his side, but he is so deeply intertwined with the future. Some things have already proven impossible to change: the fight with Krell was unavoidable, as was the massacre on Umbara. Others, while changeable, have yet to reveal their outcome, for better or worse. All part of a future in motion with no telling how it will land. Rex isn’t sure which he would prefer Fives to be. 

And then, of course, there is the contents of the pad Commander Fox gave him. The information sits like a lead weight in his stomach, not unexpected but still unpleasant. Humiliation, Fives had called it. He had no idea.

He needs to speak with the men. Too much rides on the coming month, on their behavior and there is a real concern as to how his men will integrate in with the Coruscanti guard. That Fox was willing to not only relay his message to Senator Amidala, but also saw to it that he and his men were presentable for their trial was a miracle in and of itself, even if he suspects that the presentability was more for the Commanders sake then theirs. At any rate, it was a show of professionalism that the Captain knows is unlikely to repeat itself with the general troops. He trusts that the men of the guard won’t do anything incriminating, out of a mix of respect and fear for their Commander, just as he trusts his men won’t do anything for much the same reason regarding him. But beyond that, Rex does not know.

He falls asleep without having made a decision, and despite his active mind, when the dark finally claims him he does not dream. 

\----

Rex is woken at an ungodly hour by snoring so loud, it could probably wake the dead if given a chance. He sits up and blinks around the still dark room, trying to identify the culprit. For a while, all is quiet until a second, louder snore reveals the source.

Somewhat surprisingly, it's Dogma, lying on his stomach with his face plowed into his pillow. He snores again, and from the bunk next to him Tup stirs, poking his head out from under his covers to glare, half-awake, at his brother. The snoring subsides and Tup watches for a moment. When no more noise proves to be forthcoming the young clone sighs in relief, closing his eyes to go back to sleep. Rex watches with amusement as Dogmas snoring starts up again not long after, causing Tup to growl with frustration and, driven by the logic that only comes to a man when not fully awake, hurls his pillow at his offending brother's head.

Dogma wakes with a yelp and rolls out of bed, landing with a thud on the floor. The commotion wakes Jesse who sits up, bleary eyed and confused, only to burst out laughing when he sees Dogma tangled in his sheets. This in turn wakes both Fives and Hardcase. Fives is much less amused by the situation then Jesse is, grumbling under his breath as he gets up to help Dogma to his feet. Hardcase simply takes one look, rolls over, and with the ability of a man used to sleeping through a bombardment, goes back to sleep.

His good mood doesn’t last though as the blonde debates whether or not to address the men and it’s a last moment decision to halt Fives before he can be the first one out the door.

The goateed clone looks at him in confusion.

“Sir?”

Around the room the other members of the 501′st exchange glances.

“I need to have a word with you men.”

The blonde addresses the room at large, 

Fives returns to his bunk, but not before shaking Hardcase awake properly. 

Rex gives it a few more minutes, letting everyone dress and wake before assuming parade rest in the center of the room.

He takes a moment to look at each man before breathing deeply.

“It should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway. We are in a delicate situation. Our behavior this month will determine whether or not we will be redeployed or reconditioned. As you are no doubt aware, the 501st and the Coruscant Guard do not have the best relationship."

Jesse snorts.

"That's putting it mildly."

Rex fixes the clone with a serious look, and Jesse quiets.

"I have no doubt that there will be times when you will face provocation. Do not react. Do not instigate a confrontation. This is not a leisure break or 79′s. I recognize that I no longer have the authority to make this a formal order, but-”

"Hang on,” Interrupts Tup from where he leans against the wall near his bunk. “This might not be the 501′st, but you’re still a Captain."

Rex averts his eyes, not sure he wants to see the look on his men's faces.

"Not as of yesterday."

When he looks up, Tup looks horrified. But no one speaks, which is only slightly better than the alternative, so Rex pushes on.

“I can’t make it an order, so consider it a firm request."

From his bed, Jesse smirks.

He checks his chrono.

"We have roughly an hour and a half before we have to report to the main barracks to receive our assignments, don't be late."

One by one the men file out to the mess hall in search of something vaguely edible to start the day. Dogma pauses briefly on his way past, mouth open as if to say something, an inscrutable look in his eyes. But whatever it is he wants to say he thinks better of, instead closing his mouth and nodding briefly before sweeping out the door in a pensive mood.

Some of last night's worries surface as the door closes, and Rex wonders if it is smart of him to let the men go on ahead without supervision. But he needs a moment alone.

Despite knowing that the demotion is temporary, it still hurts. He's not a prideful man, or at least he likes to think so. But here, in the privacy of a stolen moment, he can admit that this has hit close. More than that, it’s the shame and humiliation of the whole situation. He’s been stripped of his command, striped of his rank, and in just a short hour, he will be stripped of his armor too.

By nature of being clones, every last member of the GAR could wear each other's armor, which makes gear fitting something of an obsolete practice. It's more symbolic than anything else, a rite of passage for every soldier. Being fit for gear means you passed training and are getting deployed.

But for a soldier that already earned his colors, it's a slap in the face.

No paint.

Shiny.

The newly demoted clone buries his face in his hands as the tangled knot of emotions that has plagued him since his first day in the past makes itself known.

The hope.

The anger.

The grief.

The unshakable sense of loss that the thought of success brings.

~~Untethered.~~

Confident that the door will mask the sound and not caring much if it doesn't, Rex takes a deep breath, face still in his hands, and screams.

When he finally makes it to the mess hall, he hesitates for only a moment, wondering if he really wants to know what awaits him, before plunging in and observing the gathered clones.

No one is fighting, which is a good sign, but things are...subdued.

Dogma, Tup, Fives, Jesse and Hardcase are all gathered at one table, studiously not looking up from their food. As Rex makes his way over to them, its immediately apparent why.

Whispers follow him, as do countless eyes. Most are curious, certainly not friendly, but not hostile either. Others set the Clones teeth on edge. Words meant to hurt, said in voices just loud enough to let Rex know that he’s meant to hear them.

He keeps walking.

When he sits down at the table, those that have already finished with their food look up. The exceptions are Jesse and Dogma. The former is well into what Rex suspects is his third cup of caff, while the latter pushes his food around on the plate, eyes focused on some distant place, lost in thought.

Rex eats in silence, and the whispers eventually settle down, and the morning passes without incident.

07:00 comes far sooner than any of the men would like, but none are in a position to refuse. Standing outside the main barracks door, Rex exchanges a look with the rest of the men before entering the room and proceeding to the far wall. There, lined in a neat row, are six pristine sets of armor. 

“Attention!”

The voice calls out from somewhere to the right of the group, and every last man hops too.

The last time Rex saw the clone that inserts himself in front of the group, the man had still been a Lieutenant and his armor had been scuffed and half covered in the dust of a distant moon. Now, it gleams under the harsh indoor lights and bears the rank of Commander, but Rex would know the paint anywhere.

“I am Commander Thire. For the duration of your deployment on Coruscant, I will be your commanding officer. Corporal,”

“Sir!” Jesse responds, straightening.

“You and troopers Tup and Dogma will report to the rear dock performing security sweeps. We have gotten word of a potential bombing threat, so be on your guard. Lieutenant Kip will give you more details when you relieve him and his men.”

“Yes, sir!”

Thire nods before shifting his attention to Rex.

“Lieutenant,”

It's Rex’s turn to straighten, clasping his hands lightly to his side, ignoring the pang in his chest at the rank.

“Sir,”

“The Senator from Naboo’s latest bill has caused a bit of a stir and she has requested a small guard detail. She asked for you by name. ARC trooper Fives and Trooper Hardcase will accompany you.”

Rex nods, internally running over how he can approach the conversation he wants to have with the petite senator, wondering if the assignment is just luck or something else.

Thire starts to speak again so Rex pulls his attention back to the present.

“You are no longer on the front lines. This is the Republic Senate, the single most crucial strategic target in the galaxy. You are fighting the war on a front completely alien to any other battle you have ever fought. If I tell you to jump, you do it. Understood?”

The affirmative rings out clear, and Thire nods, giving each clone a critical look.

“You have your orders, men. Grab your kit and report for duty. Dismissed.”

As one Rex and his men step forward to collect their new gear. Upon closer inspection, the former Captain finds that the armor isn't as devoid of paint as he had first assumed: The vambraces and lower chest plate are painted in vibrant crimson but are otherwise unadorned. A quick glance to his left confirms that each set is painted the same, a public uniform without personality. He’s not sure if that makes it better or worse than if the armor were unpainted.

He is on his way out when Thire calls to him.

“Lieutenant, a word?”

Unsure what the Commander could want, Rex changes course back toward the other clone.

“Commander?”

Thire gives Rex an appraising once over before sighing lightly. The Commanders countenance shifts with his breath, and Rex recognizes the change from ‘Superior Officer’ to ‘Thire’.

“How are you holding up Rex?”

The blonde huffs lightly, cracking a thin smile.

“I’ve been worse.”

The dark haired clone nods knowingly.

“Been worse but can’t remember when?”

That gets a chuckle.

“Something like that.”

Thire reaches into one of the pouches on his belt and pulls out a cloth wrapped bundle, no bigger than his hand.

“Everyone knows what happened on Umbara by now, so some of the other Commanders and I discussed it last night and we thought you should have this.”

Curious, Rex takes the offered object. Whatever it is has a curve to it, and it feels solid under the slight cushioning of the fabric. Careful not to drop it, Rex begins to unwrap. When the final fold of fabric is removed, he has to suppress a gasp.

It’s a pauldron painted the same crimson as his new armor. The color completely coats the shoulder piece, but that's not what has rendered the clone speechless. Dead center, a brilliant white against the blood-like background, are a pair of Jaig eyes.

Gently, Rex traces the outline of the symbol with a gloved finger, hardly daring to believe what his eyes are showing him.

"You earned the right to wear them a long time ago, and the other Commanders and I figured your current situation didn't change that."

He tears his eyes off the piece of armor to look up at his brother, mouth slightly open with that dumbfounding mix of wonderment, gratitude, and affection.

There aren't words to express what this means to him. For nearly Forty years the blonde carried this symbol with him, through two wars, an exile, into peace, and then impossibly through time. So much of himself, his identity ~~(Soldier, Clone, Rebel, _Rex_ )~~ is tied up with it. And it's not that he isn't sure of who he is without them —once upon a time, maybe. In the early, early days when all he saw when he looked around the battlefield were disposable beings, bred to die, instead of men — but that doesn't stop the Jaig from being a part of him. To have it stripped, however briefly, felt like being shot. To be given it back? Rex finds he doesn't have the words.

Careful not to drop his gift, Rex reaches up and clasps the back of Thires neck, gently bringing their foreheads together in the most sincere and heartfelt thanks Rex can possibly express.

After a few moments, Rex stamps back to a respectful distance, eyes suspiciously damp, and clears his throat. Thire also steps back, straightening his posture. It's an unspoken signal to the end of this conversation between brothers, and a return to the dynamic of Superior and Subordinate.

"Was that all, sir?"

Thire nods.

"Don't keep the Senator waiting."

\----

Getting into his new armor takes only a few minutes, and when he emerges from the assigned quarters, he finds both Hardcase and Fives waiting for him. Or rather they are standing outside his door, heads bent together, and whispering. They pull apart when the blonde enters the hall, and although it piques Rex’s interest, he doesn't pry. Let them have their secrets, force knows he is keeping enough of his own. 

Their eyes flick to the new pauldron, and something crosses their faces. It lights them up from the inside, letting them hold their head a little higher. Not once had Rex ever doubted the resolve of the men before him, the wisdom of letting them join him most definitely, but never the resolve.

 _Hope_ , Rex realizes, _this is hope_. Although he had suspected that their situation was taking its toll on the men, he hadn't realized just how demoralized they had become until faced with the return of hope to their eyes.

“So, what's the plan?”

“We speak to the Senator, assess the situation. See how serious the threat is.”

Hardcase shoots Fives a questioning glance, to which the senior officer nods.

“We were thinking,” Hardcase starts slowly, his voice quiet. Rex tamps down the wave of mild trepidation and anticipation that washes over him at the words. “Sir, we need help.”

Ah. So that's what the whispering was about. 

Rex crosses his arms and regards the tattooed clone. He thinks he can guess where this is going, especially considering where -and who- they should be headed to. But it won't hurt to hear his men out, not least of all because he values their opinion. _Trust,_ his mind reminds him, _Show you trust your men._

“What did you have in mind?”

“The Senator,” Hardcase responds without hesitation. “No offence Sir, but you don't have proof, do you?”

Rex is aware of the piercing way both men are looking at him. Hardcase with curiosity, Fives with a knowing tilt and poorly hidden grin. The ARC trooper clearly enjoys watching Rex navigate around having information from the future, but unable to say how he knows it. _Bastard_ , Rex thinks fondly, not begrudging his brother his amusement.

“Nothing I can take to trial,” The blonde confirms. “Which is why I had a similar thought.”

The admission catches the two troopers off guard.

“You mean, you’ve…already...?” Fives trails off, letting the question hang in the air. 

Rex nods, pitching his voice low.

“I’m hoping our meeting today isn’t just coincidence, but I don’t know if she got my message. If not, we’ll play it by ear.”

The two other clones nod, but the blonde isn't done. He has a team now, small though it may be, and there is no time like the present to put them to work.

“That was a good instinct, you two.” Both Fives and Hardcase perk up at the praise. “But the Senator’s only one person, and we are going to need more than just her word. So if there is anyone you can think of who might be sympathetic, you have my permission to test the waters. Now’s not the time to take risks, so be careful. Understood?”

“You want us to recruit?”

Hardcase looks positively giddy.

“ _Carefully_ ,” Rex stresses, and he wracks his brain for any details he can remember about how the rebellion recruited, mentally kicking himself yet again for his lack of information. “No names or numbers, don't share any more information then absolutely necessary, and the second you think the conversion is going south - end it.”

The new Lieutenant checks his chrono and swears under his breath at the time.

“We’ll finish this conversation later; we’ve kept the Senator waiting long enough.”

Both Hardcase and Fives nod reluctantly.

“Alright, let's move.”

\-----

The three clones walk through the halls of the Senate building in silence, each man mulling over the previous conversation. For his part, Rex tries to keep his mind from wandering back down the path it was on earlier in the morning. (He fails, feeling no less adrift in an ever growing sea of familiar strangers then before.)

The three men pass clone and nat-borne alike as they make their way to the Senatorial quarters. Some are friendly, offering a smile or a nod. Most are indifferent, their eyes sliding past with the same level of recognition one gives a mouse droid in a hanger. While it's uncomfortable to bear, what is worse is the resignation that rears its head from deep in Rex’s mind. A little voice, so much like his own but not ~~mechanical, soulless, _wrong_~~ that whispers that this is the way things are supposed to be. His stomach churns, but he pushes it back down, and for the rest of the walk the usually composed man focuses on just taking the next step. Because he can't think about this, about _them_ , right now.

He’s so focused on his task, that he fails to realize when he and his men arrive at the Senatorial quarters. That is, until a voice distracts him from his thoughts more thoroughly than any other voice could.

“You in their Rex?”

It takes him a moment to assimilate what he’s seeing with the contradictory information his mind insists is correct. Blue and white montrals, umber skin, and silka beads attached to an akkul headdress all register separately, and then all at once, as a concerned Ahsoka looks up at him with her too blue eyes.

_Small._

It's the first coherent thought he has once his brain picks itself up off the floor.

She barely comes up to his chest, montrals and all, which are only nubs at this point. Memories of his wife are a stark contrast to the Togruta he sees before him now.

“Are you alright?” She asks, sharp teeth peeking out every so often as she chews her lower lip. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Rex feels like it too. Somewhere nearby, Fives and Hardcase are speaking to General Skywalker, something about reassurances of how the others are doing, and that their business with Senator Amidala is nothing but a routine procedure. Rex forces himself to act normal, like seeing her so young isn't something that goes against everything his mind tells him is impossible. 

“Fine, it's just been a weird few weeks.”

She squints her eyes suspiciously, tilting her head to one side, before nodding in acceptance.

“I didn't expect to see you or the General today.” The blonde offers as an alternate topic, desperate to get away from the subject of his admittedly peculiar behavior.

The Togruta sighs.

"Master Skywalker and I were just about to head out, enjoy our last day of freedom."

Rex raises a brow in interest.

"Shipping back out to the front lines?"

Ahsoka rolls her eyes dramatically, but smiles all the same.

"I wish. No, we're being sent out to some small planet in the middle of nowhere. Boring stuff."

Rex chuckles.

"Boring isn't all bad."

She considers for a moment, exaggerated and playful, before responding.

"I suppose it does have its perks."

Before the clone can formulate a response, General Skywalker detaches himself from his conversation with the others and walks up next to his Padawan, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Can I borrow our Captain for a moment?”

Ahsoka shrugs and throws a carefree wave at Rex before sauntering off to talk to Fives and Hardcase.

“How are you, Captain?”

Rex is starting to wonder if there's an echo or if there is just something about him that inspires this particular question.

“Everyone keeps asking me that,”

Anakin snorts.

“That's probably because you look like shit.”

Yeah, that would explain it.

“I’m fine, Sir. As fine as I can be.”

Anakin nods, understanding written into his posture. They stay like that for a few moments, two soldiers who both understand the cost of war is far greater than a body count. It does not last and before long the conversation continues, until they inevitably circle round to the one topic Anakin can't seem to stay away from.

“Rex, is Padme in trouble?”

Truthfully, the clone doesn't know. It wouldn't surprise him if the outspoken woman is in some sort of actual danger. But the last thing anyone needs is a nervous Anakin Skywalker, so the soldier offers what reassurance he can.

“You know how the Senate is these days, sir, you can't sneeze without drawing suspicion. It’s probably nothing.”

The Jedi doesn't look convinced. Anakin has far too much first hand experience with the kind of trouble Padme can attract to fully believe the line Rex has fed him. His worry, excessive though it is at times, is not unfounded. 

"Hey," Rex calls softly, pulling the Jedi's attention back to him, "She can handle herself, but if she is in trouble we'll make sure that she has backup and a blaster."

That seems to reassure the Jedi, the tension between Anakin's brows lifting slightly, before the Jedi nods.

“Well,” Anakin sighs, “We should be off. I promised someone a late breakfast at Dex’s.”

At the mention of food, Ahsoka looks over with a grin on her face, and makes her way to the Generals side.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure are, Snips.”

The two Jedi raise a hand in farewell to the two other clones, and turn to leave, only for Ahsoka to stop half-way through. Rex doesn't actually see her move, but before he knows it, two arms have wrapped themselves around his middle in a surprisingly strong hug.

“It won’t be the same without you, Rex.”

The Jedi before him he knows, is skilled and competent. But she is far from the steady and patient woman he knows from the future. Although he still isn't sure what that makes her to him at this point in this time, it's a relief to not see his wife in every line of the young Togrutas face.

Slowly, he brings his hands up and returns the hug.

"Take care of yourself out there, kid."

She pulls back, her answering smirk all cocky youth and confidence.

"Don't I always?"

From the doorway, General Skywaker gives the two an inscrutable look, even as Ahsoka saunters out the door with a backward wave, only looking away just as the door closes.

Rex waits for the door to shut fully before finally turning to face the petite woman who has been patiently sitting in a chair, ready to report for duty. He is stopped however, by a single raised finger and the warning look written on the Senators face. The three men exchange glances as Padme silently gets up and goes to her desk, pushing one of the numerous buttons and locking the doors, before pulling open a drawer and removing what Rex instantly recognizes as a frequency jammer. The device turns on with a distinct, if quiet, hum, and only one the sound has filled the room does the Senator smile at the gathered clones.

Comprehension dawns softly in the former Captains mind, and he cannot help but close his eyes and briefly smile to himself in amusement, before looking at the woman.

“There’s no threat, is there?”

Padme's responding smile is far too innocent to be anything other than sly.

“It's always safe to assume that there is some sort of threat to my personal safety when I am on Coruscant, Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” Rex corrects, smiling back, for once not minding the new rank.

Hard understanding flashes briefly in the woman's eyes before returning to normal. 

“Lieutenant.” She nods.

The Nabooian woman gestures to the sitting area off to the left of the room in invitation, a plush couch and a handful of comfortable looking chairs arranged around a low table, all - he notes- with excellent sightlines of the room and exits. The clones follow her lead, and Rex finds himself wondering. How long has it been? Twenty- no, Twenty Three - years since he last saw her in person, before her death. She is as lovely as ever, with her hair in an elegant arrangement and senatorial robes of the deepest purple Rex has ever seen.

“Thank you for meeting with us so quickly, especially since we’re cutting into quality time with your husband.”

From the couch Fives begins to make a sound not unlike a lothcat having its tail stepped on, only to have Hardcase cut him off with an elbow to the ribs. Padme, to her credit, doesn’t react to the noise aside from a slight pursing of her lips. Rex makes a mental note to speak to the two men about discretion when he gets a chance.

“I gathered that it couldn’t wait, especially if you were willing to risk sending your message to me through Commander Fox.”

She pauses, and looks between Rex and his men, taking in their serious expressions.

“You and your men aren't here to discuss the Sentient Rights Bill, are you?”

From the couch, Fives speaks up.

“No Ma’am.”

Rex takes that as his que.

“If I were to tell you,” he starts slowly, “that I have reason to suspect the Chancellor of manipulating the war effort on both sides of the battle to consolidate power, how would you respond?”

It's like the air has been sucked out of the room. No one makes a sound, and even the heating unit seems to have gone quiet in anticipation.

“I would say you are a remarkably observant man.” The Senator chews on the inside of her lip for only a moment, debating her next words. “I admit, I have had similar suspicions for some time now. The vote of no confidence, as well as the continued prolonging of his emergency powers both struck me as odd.”

Rex nods and sets his spine as straight as possible.

“And if I were to express suspicion that the Chancellor or one of his cabinet is not only working with, but leading the Sith contingent?”

That catches the usually composed woman off guard, and her mouth opens in shock.

“I would want to know what information has led you to such a conclusion.”

Rex has truly begun to hate lying and has begun to hate how easy it's becoming even more so. More than anything, he would like to be able to tell the truth, of the life he lived and how he knows for certain the depth of the corruption. But Fives belief was a blessing he did not expect, nor does he expect for it to happen again any time soon. 

“It was something Krell said just before he died. How his new Master would grant him a seat of power in the Empire that shall arise.” He gives it a moment, letting the words sink in. “Considering the Chancellors consolidation of power and suspicious dealings, coupled with the simple fact that Krell’s reports should have been flagged long ago, it is my belief that someone in the Chancellor's cabinet, potentially a close advisor or worse, is the Sith Master.”

It's a stretch of logic but it's the best he was able to come up with. Information, agents, recruiting allies- all of that was Ahsoka's domain during the rebellion. He was the strategist, a seasoned player in the macabre game of war that, once given information, could put it to use.

Senator Amidala is quiet for so long that when she finally speaks, the blond nearly signs with relief.

“What are you asking me to do Rex?”

“Gather information. We,” he gestures to his brothers, “are not in the position to get the evidence needed to properly expose any level of corruption, let alone an accusation of this nature.”

“And if I say no?”

Rex smiles sadly.

“Then you say no.”

Padme sighs deeply, and rises from her seat, looking down at the assembled clones.

“I will have to think about it, Lieutenant.”

He expected nothing less and nods his head in understanding.

“I have one last request, Senator.”

Padme lifts one eyebrow, listening.

“Don’t tell Anakin. He and the Chancellor are close and if this corruption runs as deep as we suspect it does..." He gives the small woman a significant look.

Seemingly despite herself, Padme smiles.

"That I can do."

\---

Arriving on the other side of the door is less like stepping through, then it is falling down. It's only the sensation of her feet firmly planted against what Ahsoka assumes is the ground that keeps her from truly believing that she's tumbling. Still, the feeling is uncanny.

Colors blur past at incredible speed and her sense of where up is changes constantly. Landing sends a shock wave up her body so strong it brings her to her knees, and her already upset stomach can't handle it. Ahsoka retches without shame or remorse until her stomach is empty, and then rests her head against the cool metal floor, careful not to rest in the puddle of sick.

After a few moments, she sits up and looks around. The door she came through is nonexistent. Instead she finds herself in a cell that is eerily familiar in a way that sends chills down her lekku. The cell itself rocks slightly, teetering back and forth as if suspended, which only adds to her feeling of deja-vu.

Wherever and whenever here is, she's been here before.

Looking down is both a mistake and highly illuminating. The ground is much farther away then she initially thought, and although not someone who has ever claimed to be afraid of heights, the sight makes her still delicate stomach swoop and her heart pound.

It's a view she remembers all too clearly: Zygerria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just gotta take a chapter to get everyone where they need to be. And because there was a bit of confusion (my bad! But thanks for asking for clarification!) everyone is in the same timeline now.


End file.
